To the Indian Meadow Lark
When other birds despairing southward fly,
In early autumn-time away;
When all the green leaves of the forest die,
How merry still art thou, and gay.
O! golden-breasted bird of dawn,
Through all the bleak days singing on,
Till winter, wooed a captive by thy strain,
Breaks into smiles, and spring is come again.
When other birds despairing southward fly,
In early autumn-time away;
When all the green leaves of the forest die,
How merry still art thou, and gay.
O! golden-breasted bird of dawn,
Through all the bleak days singing on,
Till winter, wooed a captive by thy strain,
Breaks into smiles, and spring is come again.
In early autumn-time away;
When all the green leaves of the forest die,
How merry still art thou, and gay.
O! golden-breasted bird of dawn,
Through all the bleak days singing on,
Till winter, wooed a captive by thy strain,
Breaks into smiles, and spring is come again.
When other birds despairing southward fly,
In early autumn-time away;
When all the green leaves of the forest die,
How merry still art thou, and gay.
O! golden-breasted bird of dawn,
Through all the bleak days singing on,
Till winter, wooed a captive by thy strain,
Breaks into smiles, and spring is come again.
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